In the Interim
by RedShirtSurvivor
Summary: These are a few anecdotes that didn't make it into Thus One Goes To the Stars. They don't have a specific place (unless otherwise indicated) so they stand alone like little one shots. Nestle them between whatever chapters tickle your fancy. Fun and fluff!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : So these are pretty much deleted scenes that I could't actually bring myself to delete. If it fits in a certain part of the story then I'll put it in an author's note. Otherwise, it just kinda goes where ever in **Thus...The Stars**. I might make references to some of the details from this piece in the main story depending on what it is. I'll let you know if I do that too. As usual **ST isn't mine** , no matter how many dandelions I wish on. I do this for fun. Thanks for being awesome. Hope you enjoy these little excepts.

* * *

Uhura was in the mess with Charlene trying to fix the replicator's coffee settings. The task required her to don a protective jumpsuit—which was inexcusably ugly— and tie her hair back with a very utilitarian red elastic headband. She laid on the cold tiled floor face up and opened the panel underneath the interface, revealing the wire sinews. It wasn't her specialty, but everything broke down into code and when it came to codes, she was pretty much a magician. And Kirk had given her permission, figuring she couldn't do anything to make it worse.

"Read that chemical composition out to me again," Uhura requested. Masters recited coffee's basic chemical makeup from the tablet she was holding and Nyota entered the sequence into the machine. "Try it now."

She heard the moving parts shift with a clink and heard the cup being taken out the little cubby followed by a slurp and the sound of liquid being dribbled back out of someone's mouth. "That tastes like dilithium sludge."

Uhura grunted in frustration and scanned it again. "Do me a favor. Ensign Chekov has coffee—authentic. Tell him I need about a tablespoon of it. I'm going to scan it and then feed the readings directly into this thing's computer."

It took a while, but her friend returned with Chekov and his grinds.

"Uhura," he began. "You look like you belong in an Academy brochure under the " _Work with Complex Machinery_ " subheading."

"If the recruits knew that they would spend four years in school and still not know how to fix _the coffee machine_ , I think enrollment might drop."

He laughed and waved the instrument over the little measure of ground beans before handing it back to her. She linked the two devices with the press of the button and waited for the tell-tale ding, which came a few seconds later. "Try it again."

"Well, it doesn't taste like embalming fluid anymore."

"That's something," Nyota retorted blandly, taking Chekov's hand and getting to her feet. "What do you say, Helmsmen?"

"It almost tastes like the real thing, I think." He chirped enthusiastically.

She sipped some herself and decided it was a _huge_ improvement and that Charlene was just a coffee snob. "I think it's time for the official Captain's test. Uhura to bridge," she said as she switched on the nearest comm unit.

"Bridge, Kirk here."

"Coffee, Sir?"

"Bring it on up, Lieutenant."

Alpha shift was long over but Kirk was working a double so the bridge was darkened and quiet. The hum and beep of the computers was melodic and oddly soothing. The view screen showed the stars, running past at dizzying speeds, burning in a variety of lively colors. It was strange to be up here when she wasn't on duty, it was one of those rare little moments when it stopped feeling like a job and she remembered that she had actually done it. She lived in space.

"Coffee that tastes like coffee," she beamed proudly as she presented the cup. Her voice hung in the relative silence until Jim spoke.

"Will wonders never cease?" Once he'd tasted it, he licked his lips and nodded approvingly. "You've earned your pay for the week, Uhura."

"Why, thank you."

"Am I asking too much if I request some flavor infusion…say almond?"

"I'll see what I can manage."

"Good. Thanks," he smiled, hazel eyes glittering. He was more handsome than he had the right to be. Traditionally, storybook handsome. He was the knight in shining armor—23rd century version. His big silver starship standing in for the comely steed. Bravely traversing the enchanted forest of deep space, rushing to the aid of the weak and defenseless. Sometimes his charisma was so obvious it was too much to take. And the more she looked at him the more she felt like he was trying to woo her—even if was totally involuntary on his part.

"Night, Sir. Don't work too hard."

"Me, work too hard? Why, Ms. Uhura, wherever would you get an idea like that from?"

"Oh, silly me," she crooned exaggeratedly. "For a second I had you confused with the hardest working man in the fleet or something."

"I'm not the hardest working man in the fleet," he glanced down sheepishly, focusing on the liquid in the cup. He looked up again, his eyes locking with hers. "But I do have the finest crew."

Now it was her turn to be bashful before turning on the charm. "And don't you forget it, Sir." She winked and sauntered over to the turbo lift, holding up pretty well under his heart melting smirk while she waited for the doors to close.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** This installment fits between chapters 15 and 16 of **Thus one Goes to the Stars**. If you haven't read it or you forgot, all you really need to know is that Spock and Uhura are an established couple and Ensign Moon is kind of Uhura's protege and she replaced her when Uhura was sidelined by Nomad. Enjoy.

* * *

Their Saturday shopping trips had suffered significantly since Janice's transfer but Uhura wanted to get Ensign Moon something to thank her for doing such a good job while she was incapacitated and to congratulate her for her first week on the bridge. Plus she was still trying to recuperate from those few hours spent on the ISS _Enterprise_ and retail therapy seemed in order _._

She and Charlene browsed the meager selection of jewelry, trying to find something suitable to give to someone you know, but aren't _that_ familiar with.

"Spock says it is illogical to thank someone for carrying out their duty."

"Is that you admitting defeat?"

"Me? Defeat? You ought to know me better than that by now."

"What about this?" Masters asked, presenting a small teddy bear holding a starfleet delta shield. She took it and turned it over, inspecting it and put it in shopping bag unsure of whether she would end up keeping it for herself. "You're going to keep that aren't you?"

"I am. See anything else? I already gave her a copy of Hoshi Sato's autobiography."

"How many times have you read that? If it were a paper book, the pages would have separated from the cover by now. You read it three times while we were at the academy alone, and it's not a thin book. And you've read it in how many languages?"

"Earth languages? Only six. But the book was published in all the languages that she spoke at the time of her death—to honor her."

"How many xeno languages have you read it in?"

She paused to think. "Four. No five! I just read it in Vulcan."

Charlene shook her head, looking at a silk scarf and deciding against it. "Why don't you get her a gift card?"

"That's impersonal and I really like her. I want her to know she's appreciated. How much would it have meant to us to have a senior officer say, "Thanks, you did a great job?""

"You're right. Well, give her something she can use. This cup is nice."

"Okay, yeah." She agreed taking the heavy red ceramic cup with the communication insignia printed on it. "This is good. Now she can sit in the lab and sip from her cup and run her code…yeah, this is perfect."

Afterward, they ended up back in Nyota's room with replicated pizza, watching a movie loosely based on The Xindi Incident. In the middle of the movie, Spock came in, seeming a bit shocked to see Charlene sitting on the floor in her sweats, sipping at a once-cold beer and fishing around a bowl of popcorn.

He stopped in the doorway between the sitting area and the bedroom. She waved him in, offering him a slice of pizza on a napkin. She was surprised when he accepted and sat on the bed.

"Beer, Commander?" the other woman asked, thrusting a bottle up at him without out taking her eyes off the movie being projected on the wall.

"Is there anything else?"

"Soda."

He took the beer and inspected the pizza suspiciously.

"No pepperoni," Nyota whispered. "Just extra cheese." He nodded, probably trying to figure out how to not eat it with his hands. "Just bite it."

"I need a plate. And flatware."

"Spock, it's pizza."

"Nyota, I am Vulcan." She relented and disappeared for a few minutes before retuning with a full place setting. "Thank you."

"Sure, Sugar."

"Shhh!" Masters hissed. "The Andorian ship just showed up!"

She leaned into him and he allowed it even as he carved the slice. He looked totally unimpressed by the human actress playing the Vulcan science officer and she could just tell that he was tabulating all the historical inaccuracies.

Finally, it ended and Charlene was wiping her eyes, moved by earth's salvation. "That's my favorite movie," she admitted, stretching. "Want to watch something else or you want me to get lost?"

"Why would we wish for you to become lost?"

"Figure of speech. She's asking if we want to be left alone."

"Ah."

"Have you ever done this before, Mr. Spock? Gotten together on a Saturday night with friends, eaten junk food and watched a cheesy movie?"

"Such things are not done on Vulcan."

"What about at school?"

"Much of my time was allocated to my studies. I did however have the chance to explore certain aspects of my Terran heritage. This is not the first time I've had pizza or beer, nor is it the first time I've watched a movie made solely for entertainment. This is the first time I've done all three at once, however."

"So are you two up for another flick or should I get out of here?"

"Spock?"

"I have no objections to Lieutenant Masters' presence. However, I would prefer we watch something that does not have a human playing at being Vulcan. I find it disconcerting."

"Sure."

"That takes care of your entire collection of Archer-era stories…and all the first contact movies."

"I know. And romantic comedies are out because you hate romantic comedies."

"Because all romcoms have been the same since the dawn of time!" Charlene said, frustration dripping from her voice.

They settled on a movie about a man who's stranded in space after the engines of his personal transport are damaged in a storm. She assumed that Spock liked it because he didn't make any comments about the unlikelihood of the situation nor did he question the main character's logic.

She went and popped him popcorn of his own since she knew he wouldn't eat any of the snack that she and Charlene had been digging in. He studied it for a brief second before he took the spoon and scooped some into his mouth like breakfast cereal. She shook her head and Master watched, mouth agape.

The commander obviously had his endearing qualities, aside from being incredibly handsome and well built. But Charlene could not believe that her friend Nyota—the same Nyota who would hop out of the car with her and dance at a red light or sing karaoke in an off world bar—was dating a man who ate popcorn with a spoon.

Later, when the couple was alone, he tried to dislodge pesky husks from their place between his teeth and gums with a toothbrush. "This is a most inconvenient food."

"I know," she admitted sucking at her teeth with a less than dignified sound. He handed her a toothbrush. She took the hint and joined him in the bathroom. "Did you enjoy yourself?" She spoke around a mouth of foam.

He spit into the sink and rinsed his mouth before answering. "It was an agreeable evening."

"Would you be willing to do it again?"

"I would."

She finished her task and kissed him with minty breath. "I went to the ship's store today and I got you something." He raised a brow and she presented him with a Rubik's cube. "It's an old earth puzzle. It'll probably be like tic-tac-toe for you, but there are over 43 quintillion possible permutations. If you do dismantle the cube, there are over 519 quintillion permutations."

"This is a very thoughtful gift. I am grateful." He placed a kiss on her forehead already scrambling the colors. "I was unaware that humans had such complex puzzles."

She wasn't sure whether or not to be insulted so she left it alone and wondered if she'd done herself a disservice as he climbed in the bed, concentrating on the cube


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** This is how I was originally going to start Thus..The Stars. You can consider it the unaired pilot lol. It's pretty different from what I ended up going with so it'll be interesting to hear what you think.

* * *

He was exactly where she expected to find him at this hour, especially since his routine never changed. He sat in a chair—his chair—right by the door, keeping to himself, totally alone even in a room full of ship mates. If she was a fanciful woman, she may have even convinced herself that he looked happy to see her when their eyes locked. But she was smarter than that.

She crossed the room and pulled up a seat, sitting close enough that the fabric of his trousers brushed her black nylons. He raised his eyebrows minutely at her proximity, but remained otherwise unfazed.

"Lieutenant."

"Commander, are you going to play for me today?"

"More likely than not, Ms. Uhura, I will attempt to practice my instrument and you will begin humming. And the crowd will be entertained by our…impromptu performance."

"Am I that predictable?"

"Quite."

"Well, I hate to disappoint." She made a vague gesture with her hand, but he understood that she was signaling him to begin. Effortlessly, he called forth music from the harp. To her surprise, he played a popular song, one with a slow haunting melody and poetic lyrics. He selected it as a challenge, knowing that the vocals were particularly difficult, but she rose to the occasion. She sang from her place, spending a majority of the time looking into his eyes. Spock's gaze was often intense and the only way to brace up under it was to return it with equal focus.

There was a long beat of silence before the room rewarded them with a healthy applause.

As if awakening from a trance, they turned to the crowd and inclined their heads humbly in acknowledgement.

"I didn't think you knew that one."

"I have a broad taste in music."

She nodded thoughtfully, a habit she picked up from him. She leaned in closely, to whisper distance. "Would you do something for me, Mr. Spock?"

"It depends on the nature of your request, Ms. Uhura."

The sensation of his voice in her ear was positively sinful, but for once, she hadn't come here to flirt. She was on a mission. "Teach me."

"Explain."

"Teach me to play the Vulcan harp. Please?"

Finally, he sat back and regarded her with the almost-smile he flashed sometimes. "That may be difficult."

"And why is that?"

"The theory behind this instrument is complex. All Vulcan music is complex. I am not certain that a human could master it."

"Ah," she shifted in her seat, trying to put aside her mild irritation. "So you're not up to the challenge of _teaching_ a human to play. Well, in that case…" she moved to stand but the pressure of his hand on her arm stopped her.

"I said nothing of the kind."

"You don't have to. I understand."

"I can assure you that you do not. I seek only to save you the frustration of embarking on an unrewarding course."

She scoffed. "Try. Me."

"Very well. I shall send you the theory and we can begin."

"You bet your boots we can."

"I have made no wager against my footwear."

"It's an…never mind."

Later, her PADD chimed with a new notification. She tapped the screen and was prompted to confirm the download of several large files. She wasn't intimidated by the massive documents and added them to her library.

The first thing that startled her was that the staff looked different. Vulcan is a linear language and the music evidently followed the same pattern. And gone were the five lines she was used to. But she'd rather throw herself out of the airlock than admit defeat. So she skipped her usual evening socializing and curled up with the information for the rest of the night.

* * *

They decided to meet an hour after their shifts ended. Rec room 1 was the smallest and always vacant at that time and so they made use of it. When she arrived, she was a bit disappointed to find that the lyre was nowhere in sight.

"Commander."

"Lieutenant, were you able to review the study materials?"

"Yes. And it was…involved, but I think I've got some of the basics down."

"Very well," he motioned for her to take the seat next to him and she did so. He switched on the view-screen in front of them and brought up a blank staff. Without preamble, he prompted her to identify what notes belonged where. But she was hard pressed to recall the nomenclature since it wasn't anything like the alphabetical names she was used to.

"Is there some kind of memory technique I can use? You know, like Every Good Boy Does Fine?"

Spock briefly recalled his mother trying to employ such mnemonic devices when she taught him to play the piano. He hadn't needed them, thanks to his nearly infallible recall, but he'd indulged her by learning them anyway. Unfortunately, no such thing existed for retaining the names of Vulcan notation.

"No."

"I don't even speak the language. How I am supposed to remember these names." She dropped her head into her hands and groaned.

"I did offer you forewarning…"

"This isn't me giving up! I'm just having a moment...Sir"

"Here, I will try to walk you through it."

Unsurprisingly, he was a very patient teacher. He repeated the words over and over, until she could almost pronounced them and even went as far as to help her make associations to English words, which helped immensely. When he drilled her one last time before they parted company, she was able to get through most of them without stumbling.

She held her palm up next to her face and looked at him expectantly. He shook his head, utterly mystified, until he grasped her intent. He held up his own hand and split his fingers into the salute of his people, correcting her form.

She laughed hardily and he lowered his hand slowly. She hastened to return the gesture, but explained "I was hoping for a high-five."

"I do not understand."

"It's just something people do, after they accomplish something that had been giving them trouble. It's a mini celebration. You just," she clapped her two hands together in an effort to demonstrate.

"I am a touch telepath, Ms. Uhura." He reminded her. "That sort of contact is rare on my planet and never exchanged between colleagues. It would be considered…intimate."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I won't mention it again."

"Indeed. The hour is late. We should retire."

"You're right." She stood and stretched, arching her back gracefully and leisurely reaching her arms over her head. She made a sound that was suspiciously moan-like and Spock felt the need to turn away, although he wasn't entirely sure why. "Thank you, Sir. And good night."

"Good night."

She exited the room and he watched her retreat down the corridor. As she walked, she held her hand in the same gesture as before to another crewman. The ensign slapped his palm to hers and grinned disgracefully, looking equal parts confused and delighted. She continued sauntering on.

 _Humans._ He thought, doing his best not to roll his eyes.

* * *

She learned the names of the notes and how to read them. Eventually, he brought in recordings of very simple children's songs. As the ditty played, the staff was displayed on the screen, the appropriate notes lighting up. He made her identify them as they flashed on the screen. This also helped her keep the alien rhythms.

The first time she saw that he actually brought the lyre, her heart felt like it was trying to wring its self out in her chest. "Oh! Is that—are we going to—"

"Yes. And yes. Please be seated." She sat closer now that she ever had, wanting to be as close to the lyre as possible. He leaned back. "First I believe that I should alert you that it may become necessary to readjust your hands on the strings. I will have to…touch you to do that. Are you agreeable?"

"You're not about to get any complaint from me," she purred. He ignored her coquettish tone and went on.

"I will be shielded, I assure you. Regardless, there may be a brief, weak exchange. You may perceive it as an electric shock."

"Show me, please." She extended her hand, palm up. Her face was completely innocent. And so were her intentions. She really only wanted a demonstration. He eyed her suspiciously. "I need to know what to expect, Mr. Spock. That will eliminate any level of fear on my part."

Gently, he pressed his finger tips into her palms. He felt her hand jerk away instinctively at the fizzle that passed between them. She drew in a sharp breath, like a hiss, followed by a slow sigh.

"You may cancel these lessons at any time."

"Are you kidding?"

"Never."

"I'm not going to chicken out because you have a mentally charged touch. I'm a big girl. And I need to hold that harp. It calls to me!" She opened her arms as if waiting for an embrace and he handed over the instrument. She imitated the posture she saw him take when he played it. "Like this?"

"Yes." He brought the up diagram that explained what notes lied where on the strings and attempted to walk her through the scales. Her initial efforts were admirable—for initial efforts.

As they finished, she found that she was just a little disappointed that he hadn't needed to move her hands. But she was so glad to have touched the lyre that she didn't spend anytime dwelling on it. She felt almost as much energy from it as she had from him. She wasn't Vulcan, and yet the way this music touched her, the way the instrument felt in her arms, she knew she was born to play this.

"You may keep this for the night. I would have you practice for at least an hour before out next lesson. Listen to these selections." He tapped at his PADD and sent her the appropriate files.

"You're letting me keep this overnight?"

"I believe I said that."

She caressed the wooden frame reverently. "Thank you, Sir."

He inclined his head as a response and bid her goodnight. She stayed behind to continue practicing.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** No real context here, just one of the scenes that did't make the cut. Enjoy!

* * *

Spock was rather confused as to how this had happened. And he was sure if he understood exactly what led up to this moment, then the outcome would have been much different. But as it was, he was sitting on a chair, in the middle of the bathroom floor with his chin curled into his chest while Nyota stood behind him with a set of clippers and trimmed the hair at the back of his neck. He wasn't sure if she had any experience at all with cutting hair. What he did know was that he didn't even trust the ship's barber and that he'd been doing it himself since he was thirteen earth years old—before that, it had been his grandfather Skon.

He could only hope that her hand was steady and that he wouldn't have to go to great lengths to correct any damage she might do.

"Are you breathing, Sugar?" She asked, pausing to look at his reflection in the mirror in front of them. "Or are you that nervous?"

"Of course I am breathing. Anything else would be illogical."

"You think I'm going to botch this, don't you?"

"If I believed that I would not be sitting here."

"Well, I'm done with the back anyway." She sat the clippers on the counter and reached for the comb and scissors. He listened to the sound of his hair being severed and the metal scissor blades scraping against each other as she opened and closed them.

Eventually, she circled around him and tilted his head up. Then she kneeled so that they were at eye level with each other. But he wasn't about to let her cut his bangs like that. All it would take was one slip and he'd be trying to explain his new hair style until it grew out.

He reached out and caught her wrist before wrapping an arm around her waist, standing, and depositing her onto the counter. Now she was stable and at eye height. She smiled and combed his hair to make sure it was falling in the right place. But just before she put the scissors to it again, she was paged to the comm lab and Spock finally understood what it meant to be saved by the bell.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Before they contacted their parents, Nyota worries bout getting to Vulcan

* * *

Nyota was nervous. Spock could sense it in their bond. And even if he hadn't been able to, the way she was tossing and turning would have been a sure indication. It was one of the rare nights when he was actually seeking sleep and her nearly constant movement—in a bed that was obviously built to sleep only one person—was keeping him awake. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight and close. Then he whispered into her ear. "What troubles you, Adun'a?"

"Vulcan," she answered quietly. He hadn't expected her to be in a deep sleep, but he didn't think she was fully awake either. But the speed of her response and the clarity of her voice proved that she was.

"Please be more specific. The planet Vulcan, the Vulcan language, a Vulcan individual…this Vulcan?" He gave her a small squeeze, drawing her form further into his.

She laughed slightly and turned to face him. "The _situation_ with Vulcan. How we're going to get there and how soon it's going to happen? M'Benga said that these cases were rare among Vulcans and that I'm the only human to ever be half of a natural bond. I don't want to be a guinea pig too long Spock."

"You're not a guinea pig. There's just a first time for everything. That being said, I am used to be the first and the guinea pig."

She sat up and looked down at him, running her hand over his hair and playing with his bangs a little. He closed his eyes and allowed this, pleased by her soothing attentions. There was a long stretch of quiet, during which he nearly drifted off, but then she spoke again. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight."

It was likely then, that he wouldn't be able to either. "K'diwa, there is little that can be done at 0100. Sleep is the only productive thing either of us can do at present."

"Go to sleep, Spock." She said gently as she leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead. "I'll go back to my cabin and fiddle around until I get tired." She moved to get off the bed and he finally sat up.

"I do not wish to sleep alone."

"Honey, I'm not even tired. But you are. Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?"

"I want you to rest also."

"Spock—"

"Nyota, come back to bed. I will do everything within my power to resolve this issue at a more reasonable hour of the morning. I promise. Now, lay down." He guided her back gradually until her head connected with the pillow.

"Do you want me to sing you a lullaby?"

"Should you choose to sing, I will not stop you."

"I'll take that as a yes."

He settled next to her, moving until their bodies fit together comfortably, her head tucked just under his chin, their legs in a tangle and one of his hands pressed lightly to her back. He knew for a fact that they wouldn't wake up in this neat little knot, but it was a good place to start. "There's a song I've never sung to you. But I was thinking about it the night we went to the ball on Altair. Doesn't that seem like an eternity ago?"

"Mmm."

"Have you ever see _My Fair Lady_?"

"Mmm." He gave a small shake of his head, focusing on her lilting speech pattern and her quiet, breathy tone instead of on her words.

"It's a song from the movie, the version with Audrey Hepburn."

"Mmmhmm."

She tilted her head back to see his eyes closed and she could feel his breathing starting to even out. He was going to fall asleep on her, but she didn't mind. If there was anyone on the ship who needed to sleep it was him. She decided a few lines of the song might give him that extra push into dreamland that he seemed to need. So she began to sing _I Could Have Danced All Night_ , thinking of the first time they danced together. Of course they had done minimal dancing and ended up doing more kissing. But she wasn't about to complain.

It didn't take long for him to be completely out. But she knew if she moved, that he would probably wake so she tried to make herself sleepy by recounting the names of all the planets she'd been on. It was an old trick someone had told her about back at the academy, but it was a bad one, because every time she named a planet, she had a memory. And most of them were exciting, like running and hiding in a cave or disguising herself as a native woman until someone back on the ship got the transporter operative again. Or the first time she taught someone a greeting in Federation Standard.

She still wasn't sure how this bond worked. Was she disturbing Spock with all this stimuli? Could he feel it in his sleep? Was he dreaming about all her memories right now? There were the kind of answers she wanted to have and a big part of the reason she wanted to get to his home world ASAP.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I left some mystery regarding Geoff's background in Thus...the stars so this is an attempt to satisfy that. This also addresses the events of the TOS episode **Return to Tomorrow** **(SE2:EP20).** I couldn't figure out how to nestle this nicely in the main narrative, so it lives here as a deleted scene. It fits in directly after **chapter 33**. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Uhura sat across from Geoff on the other side of his desk. He reached forward and snapped the monitoring bracelet on her wrist. She never realized how often Spock was off the ship until it meant coming all the way down to sickbay and essentially getting tagged. They affectionately called it the "away bracelet."

"I've never seen a first officer leave the ship so much." The doctor commented as he lowered himself back into his seat.

"The captain was going to leave him," she said, adjusting the band to sit more comfortably on her arm. "But some…presence on the planet made him bring Spock along. He was broadcasting to the bridge without my frequency being open. Whatever it is, it's powerful and the Captain wasn't really in a position to argue."

"I don't envy you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I just couldn't do the waiting. I don't think I could marry an officer, especially not one as essential as him."

"It's not my favorite thing, but it comes with the territory. I just know that I'll be relieved when we finally make it to Vulcan."

"I'm sure. Are you ready for the arena that is Vulcan high society?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the logic of excess. You know, live long and…"

"Prosper?"

"Yeah. And you're about to meet some of the oldest and most prosperous Vulcans alive. Are you ready?"

"You sound like my father-in-law. He asked me something like that—an eternity ago. I'm going to tell you what I told him. If it's a challenge, then it's a challenge that I'm going to have to make myself equal to."

"That's the spirit."

She sat back in the chair, deciding that this was as good a way to spend her break as any. "You always talk about Vulcan, the people you met there, your…family. You never talk about earth or your human family. Why?"

"Not much to talk about." He shrugged. "My time on Ah'rak was the time of my life. If you asked me about my home world, I'd tell you it was earth, but if you asked me _where I felt at home_ , I'd tell you Vulcan. I don't pretend that it's not strange, feeling _loved_ on a planet dedicated to non-emotion, but I did. I felt much more loved than I did on earth. If anyone can understand that it's you right?"

"I understand."

"Well, there you go. My natural parents are both officers—in fact, my mother is an admiral, and my father is the commodore overseeing Starbase 2. As you can imaging, careers like that didn't leave much time for child rearing. So my grandmother raised me until I was 6." He got a far off look in his eyes, like he could see his grandmother, just over Uhura's shoulder. "She called me Jabilo."

"Healer." She echoed, instantly translating the Swahili word.

"That's why I became a doctor. But after she died, my parents sent me to this prestigious boarding school in Nairobi. They were divorced and on separate ships at the time so I never saw them together."

"Geoff," she crooned softly, sliding a comforting hand across the table toward his.

"No, no, no. It was fine. I had a very cushy childhood. One of the best educations on the planet—in the federation really—a private room full of artifacts from every world you could think of. When I turned 16 my dad bought me this sweet flitter; it hovered so high you practically needed a pilot's license to operate it. For my high school graduation trip, my mother sent me to Risa! And since my parents were in the fleet, my academy education was totally free. I'm surprised you couldn't tell I was a spoiled brat before now." He laughed a rehearsed kind of laugh, the sort of laugh that begged you to believe that they were alright.

"But you didn't feel loved."

"Not until I got to Vulcan. Crazy, right? But how can I complain? I've got Sovan and his family—which is about to include anther member. And I've got these two," he pointed to the portrait of his adoptive Vulcan parents above his head.

"You've got us, too. _Enterprise_ is not a crew. It's a family."

"That is very true."

"It's also true that my break is almost over."

"Well, you know the drill. If the away bracelet spikes, then you need to come down. If it takes you too long, then I'm coming to find you."

"Aye aye, Sir."

She went to the comm lab to prepare her team to launch a new amplifier. They were out further than any Federation ship had been before, and communication from this distance to Starfleet command had a three wee delay. Recently, she and her team had developed a more efficient rely system that she was excited to test. If it worked, they could cut that time from three weeks to two.

They deployed the amplifier, and the lab was suddenly full of applause, high fives and hugs. It was the most interesting thing that had happened to their department in a while. It was good for morale, which was typically lower among less essential officers. But they all felt essential toady, and Uhura was proud of them.

On her way back to the bridge, she entertained herself with the thought that this kind of accomplishment might finally earn her a promotion. She looked at the rank stripe on her wrist and imaged a second one sitting just above the first.

When she got on the turbo lift, she announced that she wanted to go to the bridge but it took her down instead and the door opened on Kirk, Spock, Bones and some pretty woman. Uhura stepped back and let the other passengers on, while her husband came to stand next to her.

"Captain, I must discuss this with my wife."

"Go ahead. Meet us in the conference room, Spock."

"Yes, Sir."

The others stepped off leaving the newlyweds. "Stop lift." Spock commanded between floors.

"What are we discussing? In the turbo lift nonetheless?" She chuckled nervously, noting briefly her increased heartrate on the bracelet. "What happened down there? Who's Sargon?"

"A consciousness…apparently the former leader of whatever race used to inhabit that planet. There are two others like him on the planet, stored in orb-like receptacles."

"He wants something doesn't he?"

"Yes. He wants the captain, Dr. Mulhall and myself to host the three entities so that they might build android bodies for themselves."

"He wants your body?" She questioned incredulously.

"Yes."

"For how long? Because, you know, I need your body too," Nyota tugged playfully at his shirt, pulling him into a quick kiss.

"And it is yours to have, my wife, which is why I am consulting you. I would only need to host the consciousness until the robot is finished."

"Do you _want_ to?"

"Yes. The transfer would require that I am kept in the orb. I am curious as to what it feels like to be purely mental energy. To achieve such a state of total awareness is quite the incentive."

"As long as you don't forget all the little pleasures that come along with having a physical form, I think it's okay. I won't protest and deprive you of this opportunity. You just make sure you come back to me in one whole piece."

"You have my word."

"And you have my blessing. Go to your brief. I'll be on the bridge."

He leaned forward for another kiss that lingered.

* * *

She was pretty sure that she felt the transfer. She was suddenly light headed in a way that she couldn't explain. And then she was hot and tired. She paged M'Benga and told him she was on her way down.

"I'm going to give you a sedative," he said after examining her. "I don't know why you two thought this was a good idea."

"What's bad about it?"

"You two have a natural bond, that does not have a precedent, and he goes body swapping? It just doesn't make sense."

"We _both_ thought it was a good idea."

"I know. I know he wouldn't have done this without your consent. I just don't know why _either_ of you went along with this. I want you to go lay down for a little while."

"Can I go to my quarters? I hate the bio beds."

"Yeah. Here," he stuck her with the hypo and sent her on her way.

When she woke some time later, she turned in the bed but felt something impeding her movements. She hadn't bothered opening her eyes until then, but when she did, she saw Spock's eyes staring back down at her.

"How long was I sleep? Is it over already?" She sat up and gathered herself into a neat little ball near the top of the bed. "How was your 'total awareness?'"

"It lasted far too long." Spock replied. Only the voice was too deep and hollow to be her husband's. And the way his lips were curling up at the edges wasn't right either. "The physical world has pleasures I'd nearly forgotten," he continued, wrapping his hand around her ankle and stroking her skin with his thumb.

The touch was all wrong. There was no exchange, no charge, no buzz or low hum, none of the things that happened when Spock touched her. And even in its simplicity, it was greedy in a way that Spock's touch never was.

"You're not Spock!" She shouted kicking his hand away and scrambling off the bed.

"No, but I can be so much more."

"What are you doing in here?" Nyota moved across the room quickly, putting the desk between her and the alien. "Just because you're wearing my husband's face doesn't mean you get to come into my room and watch me sleep!"

"Oh, I just came in to get one of these primitive little devices," he replied picking a PADD up off the table. "And then I saw you. It's funny," he chuckled in a way that sickened her. Laughing with Spock's voice seemed like a form of blasphemy. "I almost felt like I knew you already." He sat on the desk, crossing his legs. "I passed your precious Spock during the transference. He thinks he's so guarded, but his mind was so _naked_ to me."

"Get out!" Nyota hissed.

"He doesn't tell you he loves you." The alien reached over and crooked his index finger under her chin. A gesture she quickly shrugged off. "It's a waste. All that feminine beauty for a man who has to pretend like he doesn't like it. But he _does_ like it. He's smart, your Spock. I saw a great many things in that mind of his. Nothing took up quite as much space as you, though. I was hoping I'd be treated to that smile he finds so very alluring."

"No, but your welcome to the temper he tries so hard to avoid."

It laughed again. "Oh, he likes that too. He likes everything about you. Especially the way you call his name when you two—"

"Shut your mouth. Get. Out."

"I wonder if you could scream my name like that. It's Henoch by that way."

Done being intimidated by this thing, she leaned across the desk until they were almost nose to nose. "If you know me as well as you think you do, then you'll know that it's in your best interest to leave _now_."

He nodded, getting up slowly, like a cat and stalked toward the door, offering her a wink before leaving.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** This follows chapter 6 of this series and proceeds chapter 34 of Thus...The Stars. Serious Fluff ahead. Enjoy!

* * *

The message from Starfleet command letting them know they could divert back to Vulcan was dated weeks back, which should have been expected considering the sad speed at which they were able to communicate from this distance—even with the modification she's made to the relay systems and its amplifiers.

This is when the mission got the most dangerous. It was a remarkable really, the strange feeling of loneliness that could settle in when you were actually on a ship full of more than 400 beings. But the month old missive reminded Nyota just how far they were from any kind of civilization they recognized and how far _Enterprise_ was from help should she need it.

"I don't know how Sarek did it," she said entering the computer lab where Spock was alone, running a new experimental protocol he'd developed a few days prior.

"Command has conceded?"

She read to him directly from the PADD in her hand. They would be allowed seven standard Vulcan days on the planet. Their healer, one Geoffrey M'Benga should accompany them. The ship was to depart immediately after dropping them off and complete a short assignment which would be over in time for the reception, so that their invited crewmates could attend

"These were likely very difficult negotiations for my father."

"Why do you say?"

"I can tell by the arrangements that he likely didn't get everything he wanted. Seven days is probably a compromise. That being said, the doctor's presence was probably a compromise for the fleet."

"Well, I'm just glad we finally get to turn around. I was about to petition the captain for a bubble to put you in." She joked, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around him. He leaned back in the chair, and into her, letting his head rest gently against her.

"A bubble?"

"Yeah, the kind that protects you from blindness and happy-spores, and captivity, and general order one, and bratty little psychics, and phaser fire, and most especially powerful ancient consciousnesses who want to keep your body for themselves!"

"You also agreed to the transfer with Henoch."

"That's before I knew he was going to try to steal my man's gorgeous physique and force you into sharing a consciousness with Christine."

"If I am recalling the details of this mission correctly—which I'm sure I am—you have not been exempt from danger yourself. You were transported into a violent parallel universe, assaulted by a damaged probe older than the Federation its self, nearly assaulted on Triskelion, drugged by the same spores I was, slapped by one of khan's crew, had your voice temporarily stolen by the same 'bratty psychic,' and most recently you were attacked by Henoch. That is of course aside from all the shocks and burns you have sustained from your console. Perhaps _I_ should be the one asking the captain for the protective bubble."

"Point taken. You can be really long winded, you know that?"

"I thought it pleased you when I take my time," he replied, stroking her arm meaningfully, tilting his head back to look at her with a glimmer of mischief that only she would be able to detect.

"Oh, it does. Very much so, Commander."

She bent forward to kiss him and was just about to do so when the comm whistled beckoning him to the bio labs.

"I'll see you later, Sir." She purred, stalling him just at the door.

"I look forward to it," he assured her, pressing his lips to hers, then drawing her into a deeper kiss.

"Don't start what you can't finish."

"Lieutenant, I have every intention on finishing what I've started. Anything else you be highly illogical."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** This follows chapter 39 of Thus...The Stars.

* * *

Spock and Nyota woke early on the morning of the brunch. There were only a few hours before they had to be dressed and primped for the event and he had something he wanted to do first.

He put on his casual clothes and had her do the same, then drove them away from Sarek's estate.

"Are we playing hooky from the brunch? Please say we're playing hooky."

"I would, but it would disappoint my mother if we did."

She nodded in agreement and looked at the window. "Then where are we going?"

"To the main house."

"Skon and T'Pau's? Why?"

"So that I can store the book properly. There is a catacomb beneath the house. It's full of artifacts such as these."

"So you have a bunch of super rare, ancient manuscripts?"

"My Wife, I did not intent to suggest that your gift is not special. It is. We have nothing quite like this. We have text from before the time of Surak and some from after, but none written during the time _of_ Surak."

"Did you even read it yet?"

"We were otherwise occupied last night. Or have you already forgotten?"

"Oh, I didn't forget."

"I will devote myself to it the next time we are on Vulcan. That being said, the safest place for it is in the catacombs."

"Do you really like it?"

"Perhaps you _have_ forgotten last night. I thought that it would be sufficient conformation of my regard for the book, K'diwa, and for you."

She snickered. "Well, I suppose…"

* * *

The main house was massive. Larger than anything she could have imagined. And she wondered after the logic of two people living in such a large house alone. They didn't even see the elder couple on their way down to the catacombs.

They went down into the lower part of the house, but just before he led them down into a network of tunnels, she grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"Sugar wait! Are there any bodies down there?"

"There are no remains, but there are some katric arks."

She gave an exaggerated shudder. "Maybe would should be careful."

"Of what?"

"I don't know. We should just be careful. Trouble has a way of finding _us_. I don't want to go falling through trap doors or be swallowed by booby traps."

"We are safe, My Wife."

"On a scale of one to ten, how superstitious are you?"

"Zero."

"Well, I'm a twelve."

"Come." He took her hand, the book tucked safely under his arm, and took her down to the lower levels.

They moved through a maze of tunnels, one of which led directly to the central katric ark, where all the Vulcan elders met and where the whole of their people's knowledge and culture was kept. He didn't know which passage it was, but he always suspected this knowledge would be passed down to him sometime before he had to take his place as the clan's patriarch.

At the end of their path was a chamber with similar artifacts: books, scrolls, and tablets.

By this time, she was clutching his hand so that the tips of his fingers were starting to turn green.

"My circulation."

"I'm sorry. This is all just too _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ for me, Sugar."

"There is nothing to be afraid of here. It is an underground catalogue of precious artifacts. Artifacts that my clan has been collecting since the time of the beginning. And the newest addition to this collection is the gift that you gave me. This is not a scary place. It is a place of honor."

She pecked his lips briefly and loosened her grip slightly.

"I need my other hand."

She let go and stared wringing her hands, looking at the other pieces nervously.

"Why don't you study the runes on that vase there," he suggested, thinking that he could distract her from her fear by using her love of language. And he was right. She walked around the little urn examining the glyphs, which bore no resemblance to modern Vulcan or even its ancient counterpart.

While she did that, he opened the case that the book had come in and placed the manuscript carefully on a dais, with the book on a stand open to its middle.

"Nyota, we're done."

"But the vase…"

"I know one could spent the entire day here but we do not have the luxury."

She looked back at it longingly as she followed him out of the room. "What language was that?"

"An example of the earliest written language of our planet."

"Like cuneiform?"

"Precisely."

"Do you know what it said?"

"It's a prayer for a plentiful harvest."

"You can read it?"

"No. But I know what it says. Would you like to come back, after the brunch to examine it further?"

"You'd stay with me the whole time?"

"Naturally."

"Okay! Can I write about it for my linguistics journal?"

"Of course. You are a Schn T'Gai now."

"I am aren't I?"

"You've even made a contribution to the collection. You are part of that legacy."

"Yes. Yes, I am. I'm going to keep that in mind when the vultures start to circle at the reception."

"Wise."

They exited the tunnels and returned to Sarek's estate to prepare for the day ahead of them.


End file.
